


Only a Moment

by Sophia_the_Scribe



Series: That Fleeting Thought [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-10-11 13:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_the_Scribe/pseuds/Sophia_the_Scribe
Summary: A Collection of Drabbles, mainly surrounding the Batfamily during day lives, night lives, and the little bits in between.





	1. Tim and Nightwing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer for collection: DC comics owns everything recognizable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> Nightwing meets Tim's eyes. Then the moment passes.

Having only a short moment to spare, Nightwing glanced into Tim Drake’s eyes, which shone expressively in his otherwise composed face. At another time, in another costume, with a little less melancholy and a touch more desperation, the expression would have cried,

“Nightwing—Dick—get me out of here. I need to go home. Please!”

As it was, the former Robin’s eyes simply said,

“Goodbye again, Dick Grayson. We are strangers now and always.”

Then the moment had passed, Tim turned his impassive face away, and Nightwing slipped quietly out of the open window to fly into the waiting darkness.


	2. Red Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> Amid fleeing crowds, a hard truth is acknowledged.

Timothy Drake stood, cowl up and arms crossed, waiting for the school children to finish their frantic evacuation so he could work to disarm the system of bombs. Suddenly the high-pitched voice of a young boy broke through the tense mayhem as a teacher pulled him toward the exit, crying,

"But why do we have to leave?"

Grabbing the red-and-black figure's cape, he asked trustingly,

"Won't you protect us, Mr. Red Robin, sir?"

"I certainly hope to," the vigilante replied, continuing in a low voice, "But things do not always go according to plan. And not everyone can be saved."

 


	3. Batman and Robin II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> Foreshadowing a Robin's fall.

The crash of a black-cowled figure through the window broke the monotony of the beeping timer, and with two well-placed batarangs the Dark Knight disabled the bomb in the center of the room. Silently he knelt beside Robin and sliced through his bonds with a concealed knife, then gathered his injured bird in his arms and wrapped him in his black cape. Barely conscious, Jason’s eyes fluttered open as he snuggled into the Batman’s arms, whispering in satisfaction,

“You came.”

“Of course I came,” Bruce replied. “I will always come. I can but hope I will always be in time.”


	4. Bruce and the Batclan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double Drabble.   
> Waking up in medical is not so bad, after all.

Bruce awoke slowly, the cool, damp air and occasional screeching informing him that he was in the Batcave. By the beeping heart monitor and his general soreness he deduced he had just received medical attention.

At the nearby med station he heard someone organizing, preparing for the Batclan’s next patient.

Someone else shifted in a chair to the right of the bed, asking the organizer something in a low, worried voice.

A clatter and the whirr of a whetstone came from one of the general utility surfaces where someone was sharpening a knife.

Farther away, two girls were sparring, one silent but for the sound of strikes, the other laughing and flinging insults.

An errant tapping was audible from the Batcomputer as two voices, one male and present, the other female and obviously relayed through the speakers, discussed rapid-fire computer code.

And he heard heavy breathing just to his left, where the youngest of them had fallen asleep at his father’s bedside, more worried than he’d cared to admit.

For a minute Bruce just lay on the medical bed, breathing evenly, savoring the moment surrounded by his eclectic, dysfunctional, precious family. Then he smiled imperceptibly and blinked open his eyes.


	5. Dick and Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> A parent's comfort for his parents' death.

A rope snapping. Two figures falling. A scream—his own—echoing through his head.

Dick woke up, panting. Where was he?

Oh, yes. In his room. Wayne Manor. Alone. He shivered in nightmare-induced sweat and curled around his pillow, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

A soft gleam of light as the door cracked open. A tall figure entering.

Bruce?

A strong hand stroking his hair. Whispered reassurances in a gentle voice (so different from the Bat’s growl). The warm, comforting presence of his…guardian? mentor? (father) as he drifted back to sleep.

Dick slept peacefully for the rest of the night.


	6. Batman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> For a single heartbeat, Gotham lies still.

The gargoyle stood harsh and crumbling against the gloomy sky, set in stark relief by a single streetlight, casting black shadows to stretch out long and forbidding on the darkness-wrapped buildings. The muted Gotham night held its breath, gripped by this heartbeat of utter calm. Unseen and unheard, its self-appointed protector basked in the moment of peace as rare in this city as it was in his own heart.

Then a scream broke through the vigilant stillness.

Immediately a single shadow detached itself from the gargoyle and flew with unrelenting stealth into the unlit night. Already the Batman’s work continued.


	7. The Batclan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble-and-a-half. Dialogue-only experiment.   
> Batclan communicator chatter.

“Hey, boss, I’m hungry. Mind if I drop by McDonald’s?”

“Hnh.”

“Ha. Still asking permission like a kid, aren’t you, Goldie?”

“Shut up, Hood. Nightwing, grab me some fries, alright?”

“Sure thing, Batgirl. Black Bat want anything?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry to interrupt, FBW, but there’s an armed robbery at Robinson’s on 8th and Cross.”

“Ah, man.”

“No, don’t change plans, N, I’ve got it. Details, Oracle?”

“Roger, Red Robin. Sending now. O out.”

“Thanks, Babybird! I’m dying without my junk food. Robin, want anything?”

“Tt. Nothing that worthless excuse for a restaurant has to offer.”

“Yup, just thought I’d check.”

“Nightwing.”

“Private channel, B? What’s up?”

“Get Robin a fudge sundae.”

“Uh, okay. Any specific reason?”

“He was exemplary in withstanding some malicious gossip today. And he wants it whether he says so or not.”

“You got it, Boss-man. Just tell him that, too, alright?”

“I will.”

“Good. Nightwing out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speakers, by real name, in order, in case it was confusing:   
> Dick  
> Bruce  
> Jason   
> Steph  
> Dick  
> Cass  
> Dick  
> Babs  
> Dick  
> Tim  
> Babs  
> Dick  
> Damian  
> Dick  
> Bruce (private channel)  
> Dick   
> Bruce  
> Dick  
> ...etc. to end


	8. Tim and the Paparazzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> When dealing with the Wayne family, the paparazzi never rest.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne! A moment, please! How do you feel about Bruce Wayne’s unexpected return?”

“Relieved, of course. Would taking online classes in between running a multi-billion dollar company be your idea of fun as a high-schooler?”

“Won’t you miss it?”

“Oh, I’m sure Bruce and I will work something out.”

“Mr. Drake-Wayne, wait! How’d you manage to keep up with both school and work?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how much you can get done in a day if you have to. Yes, I’m just glad Bruce is back. No, I’m sorry, no more questions. That’s all. Maybe later. Excuse me.”


	9. Tim and Oracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> Board meeting, interrupted.

Timothy Drake-Wayne was in a Drake Industries board meeting when Oracle contacted him.

 _O here_ , his designer watch tapped in Morse code on the inside of his wrist. _Arkham breakout, Mr. Freeze. Industrial district on 45 th. _

_Roger_ , Tim replied by flexing his wrist. He would have to thank Lucius for Wayne Enterprises R&D’s development of these multi-communication holographic-computer-projecting wristwatches. _Red Robin ETA 8 min._

The young businessman stood and motioned for silence. “I think a lunch break is in order. Please return in an hour.”

Tim left the room, and directly Red Robin was speeding toward the scene of chaos.


	10. Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble-and-a-half.   
> Even Jason misses what once was.

Sometimes, when he hasn't slept in days and even liquor can't fully drown his sorrows, he goes there and watches silently.

Sometimes, if he stands in the right place, he can see Bruce give Dick a rare, real smile or ask Tim what book he's reading or rest a large, protective hand on Damian's shoulder.

Sometimes he comes closer and stands, cheek pressed against the stone wall, smelling Alfred's cooking and hearing Cassandra practice reading in the library surrounded by her family.

Sometimes he even closes his eyes and remembers when the lighted rooms were open to him, when family meant more than pain, when Bruce's room was the best place to run after nightmares.

Yet no matter how exhausted or drunk he is, he always turns away again. He chose to reject them; he knows they would not forgive him now.

Wayne Manor will never again receive Jason Todd.


	11. Batman II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> The Batman is dead; long live the Batman.

_The Batman is dead._

The smooth glass was cold under his hand.

_The Batman is dead._

The cave was hollow and empty.

_The Batman is dead._

The family was in shambles, the city in chaos, and no one even knew Bruce Wayne had died a hero.

_The Batman is dead._

Yet Gotham began to understand her hero had died.

_The Batman is dead._

_Shall his life’s-work die as well?_

He opened the case and held the cowl over his head. Kevlar was smooth and heavy under his fingertips.

_The Batman is dead._

He slowly lowered it.

_Long live the Batman._


	12. Bruce and Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble-and-a-half.   
> Warning: contains corporal punishment of a disobedient son by a loving father.   
> This task, Bruce finds, is the hardest of all.

Bruce found much about being a new father to a recently-orphaned preteen to be hard.

It was hard to rank being home when his son had a cold as more important than protecting Gotham City.

It was hard, hearing the sleeping boy scream, to provide comfort even while recollecting his own youthful nightmares.

It was hard for the vigilante-by-night, apparent-playboy-by-day to give Dick genuine love and commit himself so wholly to the son—and, he began to understand anew, father—who formed his family.

It was hard to deal with the worry he felt every time his son donned cape and mask, even as it was hard to express his pride whenever Robin saved civilians or brought criminals to justice.

But this, Bruce realized as he held up his open palm over the bare rear of the boy who lay sniffling over his knee, posed the hardest task of all.


	13. Batman and the Commissioner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble (discounting the numbers).   
> AU. One fairly mild swear word.   
> It's been an honor.

 “Batman, are you in there? This wall’s too thick to break in!”

 “Here, Jim. I am attempting to free myself.”

“Men, get over here! Search for any opening you can find. We need a way in, now!”

“It’s no use, Jim.”

“What?”

“There’s a bomb, counting down. I will not be able to get out in time.”

“No! You’re the Batman, dammit! You can’t die!”

“I’m afraid there’s no way out, this time. Officers, Commissioner, it’s been an honor fighting beside you.”

“No, my friend, the honor is entirely ours.”

_10_

_9_

“Tell Robin…”

_8_

_7_

_6_

“Yes, Batman?”

_5_

_4_

_3_

_2_

“Tell Robin that I love him.”

_1_

_._


	14. Batman (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double drabble.   
> A man among gods.

It is one thing to, in a desire to save others, learn from masters, develop a feared crime-fighting guise, and patrol Gotham’s streets.

I have done that.

It is another thing to go head-to-head with the insane criminals of Arkham Asylum, where whim takes the place of motive and chance the place of logic.

I have also done that.

It is yet another thing entirely to fight alongside, even lead, the most powerful metahumans alive on the planet today. It takes another level of skill, another realm of dedication, for a human to stand in such a league.

This is what they do not understand. They call me impassive and calculating; so I am. So I have to be. They call me cold and uncaring; they are wrong. I care greatly, or why would I continue in the endless fight? But I bury this, in order to plan and direct and fight until the war is won. And this war, though it may be lost, can never be won.

To them, Batman has become extra-human: a watchful shadow, an avenging fury, a force of nature. It must be so.

Otherwise how could I, but a man, stand shoulder-to-shoulder with gods?


	15. Dick, Jason, and Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble-and-a-half.   
> The punishment to fit the crime.

“This is degrading! Grayson, I demand you speak with father. I refuse to comply with this!”

“Sorry, Dami, no can do. It’s one of the rules around this place: you share in the prank, you share in its punishment. Besides, at least there’re three of us to get it done three times faster, huh? Better than in my Robin days. Man, sometimes I had to miss patrol for this!”

“I am an al Ghul and the heir to the League of Assassins! This derogatory…”

“Quit complaining and start working, Bat-brat, before I break out the guns. If I can’t get out of the big jerk’s punishments you can’t either.”

“You know nothing, Todd! I am superior to you plebeians, and…”

“Shut up. You too, Goldie, before I shoot you. If I have to scrub down the Batcave with a freaking toothbrush at least I’m going to do it in peace!”


	16. Bruce and the Batboys (plus Alfred)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four Drabbles, one Double Drabble, and a bonus Half Drabble.   
> Even Batcave machinery is susceptible to malfunction.

Scene: The Batcave, Tuesday afternoon. Bruce is planning for the evening’s patrol on the Batcomputer, Dick is preparing some equipment around the corner in the armory.

“Uhh…Bruce? A little help over here?”

“Just a moment. What do you need?”

“Right now would be good!”

“Dick!”

_Crash._

“Thanks Bruce…That was…unexpected…”

“No kidding. What did you do to it?”

“Nothing! It just…blew up all over me! Honest!”

“I believe you, I believe you! I’ll fix it as soon as possible. Or replace it.”

“Yeah, good idea. Otherwise next time it’ll get _you._ And I’ll send pictures to the entire Justice League before breaking you out! Can you imagine GA’s reaction? _Hey Robin, did Bats get stuck in polyurethane foam again?_ ”

 _Sigh._ “Just go get ready for patrol, Dick.”

* * *

Scene: The Batcave, Sunday night after patrol. Jason is trying to hurry Bruce upstairs so they can share congratulatory we-defeated-Mr.-Freeze ice cream (Dick founded that tradition ages ago) before bed.

“Bruce, come on!”

“Be there in a minute, Jay. I’m just putting up this uniform.”

“No, wait! I mean…can’t you…later…oh, drat.”

“Jason.”

“Uhh…yeah?”

“You _were_ going to tell me that the uniform room is full of sludgy water, yes?”

“…Maybe…”

_Ahem._

“…not…But I didn’t do anything, Boss, I swear! The freaking washing machine broke _itself_...”

“Jason.”

“…All I did was turn it on! It’s not my fault!”

“Jason! Calm down. It’s just a washing machine. I’ll have Alfred order a new one tomorrow.”

“So…you’re not mad.”

“Of course not. You do need to find us some mops, however.”

 “Ah, man.”

* * *

Scene: The Batcave kitchen, Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Tim, going on three days without sleep, is simultaneously trying to brew a fresh pot of coffee and heat up one of Alfred’s Bat-Meals-On-The-Fly in the microwave when Bruce returns from patrol.

“Tim? What are you doing up? I told you to sleep as soon as you got me that information!”

“…What? Oh, hey Bruce…Kinda got sidetracked with that essay due tomorrow…then got hungry, thought I’d heat up one of those what-cha-ma-call-em things Alfred made. Gonna make more coffee, too…Want some?”

“No thanks, and…”

_Crash. Bang!_

“…Did you do something to the microwave, Tim, or…?”

“I don’t…don’t think so…I think it blew up on its own…hehe…the bat-microwave blew up…”

“Okay, no more coffee, you need sleep.”

“But, but, Bruce! I have school tomorrow...today…”

“I’m calling you in sick. Bed. Now.”

 _Sigh._ “Yessir.”

* * *

Scene: The Batcave garage, Saturday afternoon. Dick is working on one of the Bat-cycles when Damian saunters in.

“There you are, Dami. Could you run the Batmobile through the carwash? There was mud at that warehouse last night.”

“Tt.”

_Bang! Hsss…_

“Grayson. This worthless equipment is malfunctioning.”

“What?…oh. Okay, then, surprise! Dynamic Duo bonding session! Drive the Batmobile over while I get some stuff.”

_Crash, clunk._

“Come on, I know it’s in here somewhere!”

“What are you going on about, Grayson?”

“Here it is! Ta-da! The old brushes Bruce and I used before we got the carwash. This’ll be fun!”

“Tell me you are joking.”

“Not a chance, Lil’D. Roll up your sleeves and get ready to scrub!”

* * *

Scene: The Batcave main computer console, Friday evening before patrol. Bruce is sitting at the Batcomputer running through the night’s plan with his four protégés.

“Nightwing, warehouse sixty-two with Red Hood. Red Robin, coordinate from here. Intel from the ring will be updating constantly and we need that evidence. Robin and I…wait. Something’s wrong with this…”

_Bang!_

_Cough, cough._

“Is…ahem…everyone alright?”

“Tt. Of course.”

“Just peachy, Goldie…ow! that smoke stings!”

“Fine, Dick, thanks. What happened? Bruce?”

“Hnh. Hang on.”

_Whoosh…_

“The Batcomputer…has a hole in the top. And it’s…smoking.”

“No kidding, Sherlock.”

“It…it blew up…haha! The Batcomputer…hahaha…blew up! This’s hilarious!”

“No one is else laughing, Grayson.”

“Jason, unplug that machine before it explodes again.”

“Oh man, Bruce, this is a _nightmare_. At least it was backed up on external hard drives, but we needed that evidence tonight to put those guys in prison.”

 _Sigh._ “I know. We’ll have to postpone busting this drug ring until we can reestablish a remote connection. Nightwing, Robin, Red Hood, patrol as usual. Red Robin, contact Oracle and coordinate with her so we can do this as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow night.”

“And what’ll you be doing, Big Guy?”

“Untraceably spending money to replace the top-secret mainframe that just crashed.”

“Hey, at least it went out with a bang! Right, guys?”

“Ugggh, that is so lame.”

“Just leave, Dick.”

* * *

Bonus Scene: The Manor kitchen, Monday morning. Alfred is making breakfast, Bruce is in the dining room reading the newspaper before work.

“What is that smell, Alfred?”

“Oh, nothing, Master Bruce. No trouble at all…”

“Alfred…did the toaster just light the toast…on fire?”

“Of course not, sir! What would give you that idea?”

“Aside from the smell, ashes on the counter, and scorch mark on the cabinets? Why, nothing at all, Alfred…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits: the ideas of the Batcave having washing machines and a carwash were from other fics I've read, the polyurethane foam is from the Young Justice cartoon, and the Batcomputer exploding is based on a legendary episode in my household (before I was born, unfortunately) of the TV going *bang* and belching smoke. Yes, it was an old CRT monitor where the Batcave probably has digital, and a TV rather than a computer, but I couldn't resist immortalizing the episode in fanfic. Hope you enjoyed!


	17. Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble-and-a-half.   
> A life's worth.

“What is a human life worth? How is its worth measured?”

Tim Drake huffs out a single, breathy snort of disbelief. Must Mrs. Kirk choose such an essay topic: relevant, poignant, reminiscent of so many heroic deaths?

Of course he will turn in an unsuspicious paper, full of quotes from the assigned literature and the typical high-school musings that he always feigns. Yet the irony hits him, and he nearly chokes. He does not need an essay to answer this question, or even a paragraph, but only a sentence, weighed down by memories and dripping with painful, undisputable finality.

For once, Robin wishes he could turn in, as Tim’s homework, a single sheet of paper inscribed only with a distilled lesson everyone in the business comes to know through blood and tears and _never coming backs_.

“For heroes, the question is simple: _their_ lives are always worth more than _ours_.”


	18. Jason (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double Drabble.   
> Another school interlude.

Batman had a rule, established back in Dick’s Robin days, that a drop in grades meant Robin was benched until school could be re-prioritized.

Jason always found this incredibly irritating. After all, though Bruce Wayne’s ward  had certain scholarly expectations on him in public, Robin had to learn his own supremely important supplementary bat-courses on forensics, criminology, world languages, software programming, and Gotham’s constantly-updated gang membership and criminal rosters.

In addition, Batman required him to study other subjects as they became relevant to various cases. Crash-courses on medicine, microbiology, toxicology, weapon manufacturing, and political economics were common, nights of cramming on anything from ancient Chinese mythology to Geneva Convention war crimes to polymers and the production of nylon rope occasional.

It really was too much, Jason thought.

Especially when he, the good-by-necessity student and night-flying crime-fighter, simultaneously needed to come up with an excuse to ditch class seemingly-legitimately and figure out how to battle the alien monsters trying to take over the city just outside the window of Room 107 (Intro to American Lit with Ms. McKenzie, fourth period).

Then again, Jason supposed that it could be worse. Bruce could still be forcing him to attend those awful high-society parties.


	19. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble-and-a-half.   
> Too high a cost.

Dick was striding through the upstairs hallway of Wayne Manor when he abruptly stopped in front of a door and, seeing it, dropped his head and sighed. He quietly turned the knob and pushed it open. On the other side, Tim’s room was exactly as he’d left it, neat and organized with a stack of books near his desktop computer and a Wayne Enterprises planner on the nightstand.

Taped to the mirror above the dresser was a slip of paper with the underlined phrase, “Find Evidence!”

Dick looked at it and shook his head.

 _I’m sorry, little brother_ , he thought. _I know you think you’re right. I wish it were true, too. But if wishes were horses…well, if wishes were horses beggars would have to pay to feed them._

_This is one wish I cannot afford._

He slipped from the empty room, gently closing the missing teenager’s door behind him. 


	20. The Batclan (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 250 words.   
> Befores and Afters.

Nearly everyone in the Batfamily had their own Befores and Afters.

Bruce’s turning point was his parents’ death. “I do this for them. After what happened, I had to do this for them.”

Dick’s was also his parents’ death, mixed together with Bruce’s adoption and Zucco’s arrest. “Sometimes I wish I could go back to Before; other times I wouldn’t give up what I have for the world.”

Barbara’s was her crippling by the Joker. “I never would have realized, Before, how much more of a difference I could make as a hacker and information broker than as Batgirl.”

Jason’s was his death. “Did the pit turn me rabid? Or was how I acted Before simply a cover for the real me you see now?”

Stephanie’s was long, long ago, the moment when she realized just who her father was. “After that, I did little but long for the day I would spoil his plans.”

Cassandra’s was when she, for the first time, read the pain in her victim’s death. “I could not go back to the coldblooded efficiency I’d been trained for Before.”

Damian’s was being given the Robin mantle, or more importantly, a place in the family. “Before, I never knew what I was missing; After, I never would have given it up.”

But Tim never had such a turning point. “Mine was not an abrupt, but only a gradual or at most staccatoed change. Perhaps that, more than anything else, now, distinguishes me from the other Bats.”


	21. Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double Drabble.   
> The trust he has earned.

“…will you stay with him, Damian?”

And suddenly the world froze, falling around him in a swirl of incredulity, his mind trying to grasp tendrils of thought as they slipped by, incoherent.

He blinked suddenly filling eyes, breath coming in uneven huffs of disbelief. But there his father still stood, resting one heavy hand on Damian’s shoulder and watching him with solemn eyes, awaiting his answer.

Damian swallowed thickly, and his voice, though stiff, was not as steady as he had intended. “Of course, Father.”

“Thank you,” Bruce replied seriously, giving his shoulder a weighty squeeze and bending to kiss the patient on the forehead before slipping away.

And immediately Damian collapsed, boneless, against the side of the bed, tears streaming helplessly down his cheeks. He _had_ been learning, improving, _trying_ , and he _knew_ his father loved him, and accepted him, and even was proud of him, trusting his ability in the field and his judgment in casework, but…but…

But to be so _casually_ asked to stay with one he had tried to _kill_ , several _times_ , for his father to, without reservation, entrust him with Tim Drake’s care…

There, at his brother’s bedside in the Batcave medbay, Damian Wayne wept.


	22. Oracle and Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double Drabble.   
> Some things are even better than sleep.

“All clear, gang, it’s finally over.”

Oracle’s announcement over the comm-links was met with a chorus of relieved sighs. Arkham’s most recent massive break-out was, after nearly a week of interminable searching and exhausted patrols, finally contained, and the Bats were quickly dispersing to their closest safe-houses in order to sleep as soon as possible.

“Oracle, you should…”

“No!” the flame-haired information broker snapped. “I will not do anything, Batman. I may not run the streets anymore, but I am _exhausted_ , and if you disturb me before I’ve had a chance to sleep for three days I’ll, I’ll…” She trailed off as her sleep-deprived brain failed to produce a worthwhile threat.

“I was just going to recommend that,” Batman replied, dryly.

Silence filled the comms, suddenly broken by Batgirl’s giggle.

“Shut it, BG. You may get trippy when tired, but I’m grumpy and I won’t…ahhh.” Barbara sighed and relaxed, immediately forgetting what she had just been saying, and tipped her head back to see just who was currently kneading her tense shoulders with strong, skillful hands. Her gaze was met with a blinding smile and a pair of bright blue too-cheerful-for-this-long-without-sleep eyes.

Maybe she wouldn’t head to bed just yet.


	23. The Batclan (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triple Drabble.   
> Though worlds burn...

The hammer-stroke fell: destruction upon destruction, terror upon terror, till the earth itself burned, a shattered visage, and even the depths of the sea were filled with Their stench.

Who They were had perhaps mattered, once, but no longer. All that mattered was that every measure to counteract Their hordes had failed, and failed, defeat compounded upon defeat, until Wonder Woman was slaughtered and Superman fell as a flaming star and the cities of the world were ground to dust beneath the endless beating, beating, beating of unstoppable savagery.

The Green Lanterns were broken, their power turned back upon them unendurable.

The Arrows fell together, saluted by Canary’s cry, but even then Star City was no more than rubble beneath their feet.

The Flash family evacuated Central City person by person, citizen by citizen, life by life, but it was no use, and four generations fell as the earth screamed and heaved until but a crater remained.

And so it continued. The world’s heroes stood amidst their families, defending their cities and homes and all that was just and right and beautiful, stronger than they had ever been before, and it was not enough, never enough, as one by one, or clan by clan, or team by team, they were cast down, their bodies fed to the ravenous beasts and desiccating winds.

 But beneath the scarred earth and ravaged streets, in the labyrinthine tunnels once the home of clowns and psychopaths and crocodiles, a people yet remained. Retreating yet undefeated, hiding yet stronger than any, stronger than all, a haven of hope amid despair that welcomed the remnants of mankind into its putrid stench amid fallen dreams, the Gothamites held.

And in the darkness the leaders of the Last Resistance held their course.

Together, the Bats stood, and hope remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a particularly logical scenario, I grant you, but my premise was that the hyper-intelligent alien-monsters would focus their main invasion on two goals: (1) mass-destruction in general (which a lot of Gothamites survived by a quick implementation of the Batclan's tunnels/sewers/caves city-evacuation contingency plans, assisted by Gordon and the GCPD) and (2) specific targeting of metahuman heroes, whom they considered their biggest threat. But they disregarded or didn't even notice the purely-human Bats. (Ha, big mistake!)
> 
> In any case, this idea took root in my mind and unexpectedly developed into an almost full-fledged dystopian AU. I'll note down some of my ideas for it here, in case any of you are interested--or I want to write more of it later! 
> 
> \- The invading monsters have technology that can detect the superheroes' power sources and either usurp control of them (as with the GLs) or find their weaknesses (as with SM: they synthesized Kryptonite). 
> 
> \- They weren't particularly attracted to cities without resident Metas, such as Star and Gotham. Star City, though, doesn't have convenient tunnels/sewers/caves or Bats-with-contingency plans, so it was simply destroyed in the mass destruction. The Arrows survived the initial blast (being away from Star gathering intel) and returned with Canary to find their city destroyed. At that point the monsters' technology detected Canary's meta-gene in the city and attacked them. 
> 
> -The Flashes began evacuating their people to Gotham as soon as they realized the rest of the earth was doomed, but as they would not stay in safety while there was anyone left to evacuate--and there would always be people left--they were all eventually killed. 
> 
> -The rest of the Super family fell defending either Metropolis or Kent Farm (not sure which would be more fitting). 
> 
> \- Atlantis and Themyscira were both noted as possible points of particular resistance and destroyed early on, along with their resident heroes. 
> 
> \- Batman realized almost immediately that physically fighting the monsters would be an exercise in futility for him, so he stayed in the Batcave and tried to find a weakness for his fellow Leaguers to exploit. 
> 
> \- The Flashes also served as information-runners, keeping the League connected once the monsters blocked all communication, and telling everyone they met to go to Gotham, that's where the Resistance is. 
> 
> \- All the other heroes died before Batman was able to find a weakness in the invaders. (Here you go, Bruce, more self-imposed guilt to live with! But you can't break down, you've got to play Atlas with the world on your shoulders...)
> 
> \- Arkham was destroyed, with all its inmates, in the initial destruction, since evacuating them was high on no one's priority list. (I don't know about the workers. They probably didn't make it out. But then again, much of Gotham's population died--it was only a fraction that were evacuated in time.)
> 
> \- Their rogues being dead, the Bats have all revealed their identites--or, more accurately, quit trying to pointlessly conceal them--and with everyone simultaneously appointing/accepting/taking-for-granted Bruce Wayne/Batman as ruler/chief-organizer/guy-with-all-the-ideas-and-solutions (and the Batclan+police as helpers/enforcers/sub-organizers), the Gothamites are figuring out how to simultaneously live in tunnels/sewers/caves (stubbornness and innovation!) and be the Last Resistance of Mankind (Bat- and police-provided training!). 
> 
> \- With the Bats to make the plans and plenty of motivation, you just know they'll eventually defeat the invaders, don't you? (Especially since not even B objects to killing hyper-intelligent alien-destructo-monsters.)


	24. Commissioner Gordon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triple Drabble.   
> Inducted into the Bat-network.

“Commissioner Gordon?”

“What is it, rookie?”

“I…I…”

 _Sigh._ “Come in, officer, and shut the door. Now sit down and spit it out.”

“I…need to, um, talk to the Batman.”

“That’s a serious request, son. Why?”

“Well, I heard last night that he interrogated one of the Riley murder case suspects, and this morning the suspect, a gang enforcer type, came to me first thing and confessed what he’d been doing, cleared up a lot of variables, especially with the other witnesses he could lead me to, and it was helpful and all, but…”

“Go on.”

“It…it was _my_ case. And I don’t mind the help, really I don’t, but…Batman could’ve at least _talked_ to me, you know?”

“Yes, he could’ve. Batman?”

 _Gasp!_ “Is…are…?”

“Officer Atkins. This is the evidence trail leading to your murderer. Act quickly before he runs.”

“Y…yes, of course…Batman…but …what?”

“Yes, he’s gone. You’ll get used to it. Congratulations, rookie, you solved your first case.”

“But, sir, I didn’t…”

“Listen, Atkins. You look in that file, you’ll find every bit of research you slaved over funneled through the most logical steps possible, leading to the conclusion Batman gave you. As you go on, you’ll draw the conclusions faster and faster yourself, but this time be thankful that you can apprehend the criminal without more lives being lost. Be proud of the work you did. And continue take the help offered from the Bats.”

“Continue, sir?”

“Why would Batman follow the murder case of a rookie cop fully capable of solving it himself unless he had you in mind for something? I don’t know what you did to catch his attention, Officer Atkins, but I suggest you keep doing it, and get ready to work with the World’s Greatest Detective and his protégés.”

“Yes, sir. Yes I will.” 


	25. Batman and the Commissioner (and Robin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double-drabble-and-a-half.   
> Not so surprising, after all.

The night is wet, rainy, and miserable, and Commissioner Gordon stands on the GCPD roof, collar turned up and hat pulled low over his eyes. He spares a moment to snort at himself: apparently being the highest-raking police officer in Gotham City gives you worse hours and longer shifts than the greenest rookie stuck on deadbeat graveyard patrols. Or maybe it’s just him.

Long years of practice alert him to another’s presence on the roof, but he doesn’t yet turn to greet the newcomer.

“Nasty night, isn’t it,” he offers instead.

The figure behind him shifts and grunts, which Gordon takes as agreement.

“Left that boy of yours at home?” he continues when no chirruping voice breaks the silence that falls between the two old comrades.

The other pauses. Gordon turns around.

In Batman’s arms, wrapped up against the damp cold in the Dark Knight’s cape, is Robin, draped over his mentor, arms clinging to his neck like a baby koala even in sleep. As Gordon watches the boy shifts, snuggling further into the Kevlar-protected torso of the fearsome legend of Gotham City.

He feels a smile about to cross his face, and coughs into his shoulder to hide it.

“I was just taking him back now,” the Dark Knight answers, as if Gordon should not be the least bit surprised at the tableau, and jumps off the roof, cradling his precious cargo.

(And perhaps Gordon is not surprised, after all, to see Batman and Robin as father and son.)


	26. Batman (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double drabble.   
> Between one breath and the next.

Time hung, frozen between one breath and the next, the crack of a gunshot echoing from the rooftops through the Gotham night.

The shooter’s weapon dropped from nerveless fingers as he gaped in shock at what he had done.

The civilians in the street stared upward toward the falling form, hands pressed in dismay over mouths open in horrified gasps.

The Commissioner gripped his sidearm between tightly clenched fingers, teeth gritted in silent prayer as he stared in desperation for hope that would never be fulfilled.

Robin dropped to his knees, his face awash in agony as he stretched out a useless hand, screaming a wordless litany of _not again, not again!_

And at the focal point—suspended between earth and heaven as though Gotham herself sought to cradle him in a repentant embrace—Batman fell, arms flung wide as if to shield his city even in death, face turned toward the single ray of sunlight that pierced the clouds to illuminate him as he dropped toward the streets for which he had lived, bled, died.

Then came the dreadful _crunch_ and _crack_ and _splat_ of Kevlar and muscle and bone, and time suddenly jerked forward, towards a hopeless dawn.


	27. Stephanie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble.   
> More than simply allies.

“…request that the Batfamily please avoid destroying our city!”

Stephanie Brown huffed, reaching carelessly behind her to flick off the TV. Ungratefulness was highly annoying.

Then suddenly she froze and replayed the words in her head. Had the host really called them…

_A Manor key on her ring. A room filled with her junk. Sisterly quarrels forgotten within minutes. Older brothers to confide in, younger ones to teach. Black sheep and bachelor uncles and extended relations randomly dropping by._

_A father-figure she truly respected._

Steph smirked and rolled over, grabbing her phone and creating a new group text.

“Hey Batfamily…”


	28. Barbara and the Commissioner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 350 words.   
> The night before a Very Important Day, Babs has a Very Important Talk with her father.

The door swung open and Jim Gordon stuck his head in.

“Can I come in, sweetheart?”

“Of course, Daddy.” Babs smiled at him from her chair in front of the vanity. Her father walked up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders.

“So, my big girl’s finally marrying her Dick Grayson tomorrow, eh?”

Barbara blushed, grinned, and tilted her head sideways to lay on her father’s hand. He bent down to whisper in her ear.

“Are you ready, baby girl?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she returned, equally quietly, and kissed his cheek. He gave her a fond smile and her shoulders a parting squeeze before turning toward the door.

“Daddy—” she suddenly called, “wait.” She swung her chair around to face him, her face set in now-serious lines. The Commissioner turned, noted her expression, and sank onto the side of her bed, waiting for her to speak.

“There’s…well…there’s something you really should know…I mean, I ought to have told you a long time ago…but…” she trailed off, bit her lip, and then steeled her gaze and began again before her father could interrupt. “I think that tonight, of all nights, I should at last tell you the truth, though I’m pretty sure you already know. But I think it’s long past time for you to hear it from me…”

She paused, expecting him to stop her, citing the need for plausible deniability and a plethora of other reasons that he should not have his suspicions confirmed. But instead he just smiled encouragingly and squeezed her hand. She gave a half-smile back and continued.

“I was Batgirl, Daddy, and now I’m Oracle.”

The Commissioner gasped, opened his eyes comically wide, and placed a theatrical hand to his heart.

“Oh, my word. My dear, does your fiancée know?”

Babs giggled and swatted at his arm. “Stop it! We were being serious!”

“I know.” He sobered quickly. “And I worry about all of you. But I wouldn’t ask you to quit, and I couldn’t be prouder, either.”

She blinked suddenly misty eyes. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. And thank you, for telling me.”


	29. Alfred and the Batfamily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 600 words.   
> Post-patrol tasks and snacks.

Outside, the Gotham night was waning, and in the long, cavernous tunnels under Wayne Manor the Bats were returning from Patrol to decompress in the Cave before retiring to their respective homes for what little was left of the night—or, more likely, crashing at the Manor until morning. The distinctive sounds of very powerful, very expensive, very well-kept motors being run at mid-to-low levels—somewhere between a deep-throated growl and a satisfied purr—one by one ceased as their drivers slid them mindlessly and expertly into their parking places.

Seven figures moving with as-yet silent steps and deadly grace left the garage bay and gathered for a moment on the main platform. One by one they shed capes, gloves, and other outer accoutrements and dispersed to their designated tasks to finish before Patrol could be considered complete.

The blonde girl removed her cowl, rubbed her eyes, and began cataloguing total used, spent, lost, and recovered equipment from the night. Periodically, taking frequent sips from the smoothie sitting on her workbench, she called out questions to this effect and received perfunctory answers from her fellow vigilantes. On her right side sat the smallest Bat, carefully verifying from the family’s utility belts in front him the veracity of each reply and cleaning blood and other filth from the used weaponry. Every so often he paused for a spoonful of yogurt from the available bowl.

The second-tallest returned to the garage bay to make note of any problems—from dents and scratches and mud to full-on engine trouble—with the vehicles used that evening, but not before swiping the plate of cold chicken the rested next to where he laid down his helmet.

The slender, dark-haired girl stepped lightly and purposefully around all her family members, munching on thickly-buttered and strawberry-jam-spread toast and scrutinizing everyone’s movements for any injury left consciously or unconsciously undeclared.

The taller of the remaining young men gathered up the collection of grapple guns and extra rope, checked the mechanism and soundness of each piece, and carefully hung them on their designated racks. The banana in his hand hampered his movements somewhat, but he made good time with his task all the same.

The other sat at the computer console, quickly typing the evening’s mission report and filing that and the night’s data in the correct folder. He frequently sipped from the mug of warm milk at his side and nibbled at the peanut-butter-spread apple slices from the plate next to it.

Every so often a soft “ping” alerted them to a message from Oracle, noting any footage gathered by outside sources over the course of the evening. The remaining vigilante in the cave, the tallest and broadest of them all, split his time between replying to these messages concerning the fate of the footage—to remove it or not—and updating and modifying the current-mission statuses and case plans detailed on the large whiteboard that hung on the wall of the staircase descending from the Manor. The slab of steak on his plate was quickly consumed.

Within a quarter of an hour, everyone’s task was completed, and the Bats retired to the showers to wash, change, and head to bed.

And as their friend and butler moved about the now-deserted main cave, gathering empty dishes and wiping crumbs off counter-tops—well, he couldn’t help but be just a little bit proud. The uninitiated in the League were rightly wary of the Batclan’s mysterious Agent A—after all, who else could guess with accuracy as consistent as Master Bruce’s batarang throws the post-Patrol snacks of the entire Batfamily?


	30. Jason and Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quadruple Drabble.   
> At long last, Jason understands.

When Jason roars into the cave on his bike and slides, utterly exhausted, from its seat, the last thing he expects is to be immediately grasped in a desperate, almost shuddering hug by a familiar black-armored figure. While he and Bruce have reconciled to at least some degree, they have, so far, only engaged in stuttered conversation.

Jason supposes his almost dying again tonight changes the rules slightly.

“Jason. Do not, do not do that to me,” Bruce whispers.

It has been a brutal night. Jason thinks he can be forgiven if his hands raise to catch themselves in the other man’s cape and his forehead tips forward to rest on his armored shoulder.

“Jason,” Bruce says again, voice breaking almost pathetically.

(For most of his life, Jason would have laughed in your face had you suggested that the _Batman_ could _cry_. Especially after his resurrection, he would have scoffed at your utter ignorance of the man’s heart of stone. But now he knows differently. Now he knows of interminable evenings in front of a glass case, hot, heavy tears falling through iron control even as suppressed sobs shudder through his chest because it is _his fault, his fault, his fault and he doesn’t deserve to mourn like this_ before pulling a cowl over still-wet eyes and seeking the streets to make someone _bleed_ —whether himself or a criminal, he himself hasn’t yet decided. Jason knows of a butler upstairs in the kitchen, his own domain, gripping the counter with white knuckles and trying, trying, _trying_ to get a hold on his emotions so he can go downstairs to Master Bruce, the single cup of tea cooling on the tray until once again the Batman will have long since left for the night and Alfred sinks, despairing, to his knees, knowing that tomorrow will be no different. Jason knows, now, can see in his mind’s eye the two strong, self-possessed, guilt-ridden men grieving, night after night, utterly alone in a huge, empty house that echoes with voices dead and gone. Jason sees it and understands.)

So if a shudder passes through them both, and if Bruce tilts his head toward the ceiling and clenches his jaw but still cannot keep two hot tears from dropping down onto Jason’s hair, he knows he will never speak of it. For whatever else resides in their past, or in their future—he understands.


	31. Jason and Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double drabble.  
> Stairs are for squares!

Jason Todd yawned as he walked down the grand staircase at Wayne Manor. He would never complain, but extra-long weekend patrols did tend to leave him late-rising and sluggish—especially when a certain former Robin happened to be in town.

He had barely stepped onto the ground floor when he heard a far-too-chipper voice call down at him.

“Hey kid! You getting breakfast? Wait up!”

And with that, Dick Grayson bypassed the stairs entirely, somersaulting off the balcony and landing, cocky and grinning, next to Jason, who groaned.

“Why are you like this? Just walk down the stairs like a normal person. Idiot.”

For a moment Dick looked affronted at this less-than-enthusiastic response to his entrance, but then he laughed, ruffled Jason’s hair with an irritating swipe, and countered,

“A normal person? Show some imagination! You know what they say—stairs are for squares.”

“Literally no one says that. No one.” Jason retorted, ducking away from Dick’s hand and stomping toward the kitchen, ignoring the older boy’s chortling in the background.

But if the next time Jason was alone in the Manor he flipped down from the balcony rather than taking the stairs, well—no one would know but himself.


End file.
